Mr. Pietro Zanoli was respon­si­ble for this. He was the man for slip­pery busi­ness. Pietro immi­gra­ted to Switzerland at the time tog­e­ther with his brot­her Isaia as part of the gre­at wave of Italian migra­ti­on. They wasted no time and applied to Bianchi right away. Isaia lived with his wife and their two child­ren abo­ve the shop on Marktgasse, whe­re Pietro had his own room. Several times a day, he would manu­al­ly retrie­ve the fish from the Limmat, whe­re they were kept in a ves­sel sta­tio­ned the­re (in fact, it was more of a metal raft ancho­red in the water). It was not uncom­mon for the eels to make a break for it and slither over the rim of the bucket onto Limmatquai. Pietro would then swear loud­ly in Italian and catch the eels again—an impromp­tu show for passers-by every time. Aside from the swea­ring, Pietro never let anything ratt­le him and would even stop a tram if neces­sa­ry to get his work done. 

Everyone lik­ed the Zanoli family—not only Pietro, but also his brot­her Isaia, who later suc­cessful­ly ran the fish busi­ness on Marktgasse, and his wife, who mana­ged pro­duc­tion. Saturdays were spent in the allo­t­ment gar­den, and on Sundays they went to church. And on Monday, streng­the­ned in faith, Pietro would once again rise to the chall­enge for the deman­ding clientele—pulling the chest­nuts out of the fire, or rather, the fish out of the Limmat.